SEVENTH EMPTYING. 129 



house to a wee bit tailor doon the street, and he says aw 

 mun turn oot o't this day week ; ye'll ken it's no easy to part 

 with the auld place, meenister, it's no easy." The minister 

 agreed ; he suggested that Jock should see the agent again, 

 but Jock said, sadly, he had seen him sax or seven times, 

 and it was no use at all he mun turn oot. " Weel," said 

 the parson at this stage, " if all else is of no avail, Jock, have 

 you ever tried prayer ? " Jock had not, but promised he 

 would, and a fortnight later when the minister came down 

 the street, expecting to find Jock cleared out and the wee 

 bit tailor in possession, he heard, as he came along, Jock 

 stitching and hammering and singing away louder than ever. 

 " Noo, Jock," said he, as he stood at the open window, 

 " how are ye the morn ? " " Eh ! meenister," said he, " but 

 awm fine mon, I'm just fine. Come awa ben the house, 

 and well hae a dram thegither, for I'm no gaun to leave the 

 hoose, ye ken." " You are not to leave it, Jock ? Did ye 

 try prayer, as I told ye ? " "I did, meenister, and the Lord 

 answered it the tailor's dead." 



Mickey Doolan was an Irishman, a little bit good for 

 nothing perhaps, though that failing is not uncommon among 

 the sons of the most distressful country that ever sure was 

 seen. For the peace of his body and soul, the priest of 

 Mickey's parish went to " convarse " with him and to bring 

 him to a sense of duty. " Mickey Doolan," said the holy 

 father, " you have been severely tried. You have lost several 

 members of your family by death within the last three 

 months ; your brother is under the penitentiary for wiping 

 the floor with your poor old father ; your house has been 

 burnt down ; you are blind of an eye which you lost in that 

 ruction at Ballyhooley ; you are a cripple from rheumatism, 

 and the bailiffs are afther ye this minute ; yours is a sad lot : 

 what is to become of ye ? " " Father Brallegan," said 



